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“I swear, it was the coolest thing ever. Taika Waititi is a freakin’ genius,” Malcolm was saying. “So, you want to go see the new one coming out?”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, sipping my chicory coffee.
“You know, the new Marvel movie.”
“Sure,” I mumbled, scanning the Square across the street.
“Awesome.”
Malcolm bit into his fourth beignet, having finished his order, and moved on to mine. After all of my faked enthusiasm for beignets, I could hardly eat a bite. I was draining the last of my café au lait when I saw him.
Striding across Decatur like a man on a mission, he wore black jeans, a black leather jacket, and black boots. No matter his dark allure, something about him made everyone step clearly out of his way. I knew what that something was—eau de Jude.
Despite his magnificence, he emanated an aura of back-the-fuck-off wherever he went. My heart skipped a beat, even though I’d firmly resolved to keep my heart out of this. I’d decided Jude was entirely off-limits in the dating category, but he knew a hell of a lot more about what I was than he was letting on. I needed answers, and if that meant I had to resort to becoming the stalker in this relationship, well, then, so be it.
Oh hell, who was I fooling? Honestly, I just really wanted to see who this Kat person was.
I didn’t see a sword hilt sticking up anywhere and wondered if my ability to see through the illusion had faded. Not likely. He marched directly toward the stairs leading up to the riverfront. Malcolm was still talking away, but I totally couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying.
“Hey, let’s go take a walk along the river. It’s nice tonight.”
“Yeah, sure,” agreed Malcolm. His eyes brightened, and I hated myself a little bit more.
The riverfront at night was dimly lit, perfect for couples and lovers who wanted privacy on a moonlit stroll. A cool autumn wind nipped the air. The crescent moon hung low, cutting a sideways smile in the starry sky.
I felt sick deceiving Malcolm this way, especially when he slid a sweet smile in my direction, but my choices were limited. Out of nowhere, he took my hand as we climbed the stairs as if to guide me, but we both knew that wasn’t why. His palm was a little damp, and I let him hold my hand, letting him believe what he wanted for the time being.
Ugh. I’m such a bitch.
Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of my hand in Malcolm’s, I tuned in to the dawning sensation creeping along my skin. I was close to Flamma. An ethereal tendril wove out of that secret place within, wrapping a warm layer around my chest, spreading over the rest of my body like a blanket alight with electricity. It was the oddest sensation I’d ever felt, though it seemed to happen without me doing anything at all. I had no idea what this meant, yet at the same time felt protected.
As soon as we stepped onto the stone walkway along the riverfront, I saw them conversing closely near one of the many stone sculptures dotting the riverfront.
Though Jude was definitely a specimen to draw the eye, I couldn’t help but gaze at the tall, slender woman standing next to him.
She must’ve been six-foot. Blonde hair braided tightly in a thick line halfway down her back and a pale face with wide, pretty eyes. She was dressed from head to foot in brown leather, including a duster jacket that hit her knees. Jealousy burned in my chest. I suddenly felt small and insignificant in my faded jeans, white knit shirt, and red denim jacket cropped short at the waist.
Malcolm guided me straight for them, but I pulled him to a stop.
“You’re shivering,” he said. “Are you cold?”
Malcolm wrapped me into a hug, rubbing my back. I didn’t protest. Now I had an excuse to watch the two over his shoulder without moving into their line of vision.
My senses heightened. The smell of the muddy river mixed with saltwater from the Gulf wafted over me. The cool, humid air clung to my skin. And sound amplified to a ridiculous degree. I homed in on the one sound I’d come for—the conversation between the model look-alikes not fifteen yards away.
“What kind of signs?”
“You know very well what the signs are, Jude.”
The familiarity with which she said his name twisted something in my stomach. To my utter disgust and that of my caged green-eyed monster, whose hair stiffened straight in the air, the woman’s voice was husky and silky at the same time. She had a bit of an English accent, too, though watered down.
“And have you spoken to George about this?” Jude asked her.
Her eyes narrowed at the question. “No,” she said tightly. “I don’t need his permission to theorize, do I?”
“I never said you did.”
Though she was apparently beyond miffed at the mention of this George guy, Jude had a very amused expression on that gorgeous face of his. The woman continued in a much more businesslike manner, which was more to my liking. “My region has been overrun by servants to a high demon, one of the highest. He’s crafty, stays well-hidden, and not always here on our plane. He’s the reason I’m here in New Orleans.”
